


School days

by ottertrashpalace



Series: I guess we're calling it Crewt [4]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ace!Newt, Angst, Fix-It, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, a continuation of my fluff series, also i'm making some guesses about some universe-related stuff but w/e, any ocs are minor, credence learns things, newt is better at teaching than he thinks, wand purchasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 03:29:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9158185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottertrashpalace/pseuds/ottertrashpalace
Summary: As part of Credence's recovery, he starts learning how to do actual magic--and it's exhilarating. His new friends each pitch in to give him their own lessons, and slowly, he reclaims his power.A direct continuation of the series this is a part of. Can be read alone, but it is a universe of my own construction so I (selfishly) recommend that you read the rest.





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> So just a warning, i took some liberties with the canon descriptions of some wands, because i felt like it and there were some things in the pottermore wood descriptions that intrigued me. for example, fun fact: yew wand users are usually very attracted and attached to those with rowan wands.  
> Anyway, enjoy

It was late at night when Credence’s magic first manifested itself after Newt took him in. He’d woken up, as he tended to, after a nightmare, and he got up to splash his face with water before getting back in bed. He tended to get jittery, and he didn’t want to end up kicking Newt or something while he was trying to fall back asleep.

Blearily, he turned on the faucet and let the cold water run over his fingers, refresh his cheeks. It was a miracle to him that the Goldsteins had indoor plumbing, and it certainly had its advantages. His mind slowly began to clear, and he turned to leave—but his arm swung around at just the wrong angle and bumped a decorative vase on the counter. Credence froze in terror, but the crash he’d been expecting never came; instead, the vase just tapped down softly, nary a crack in it. This immediately struck him as odd, but he was tired, and he let it go, replacing the vase on the counter and shuffling back to the warmth of his bed with Newt.

In the morning, though, he remembered. He explained the whole thing to Newt, who listened thoughtfully.

“This is incredible,” he said in the end, “unprecedented, really. We knew that there was no record of such an advanced case of an Obscurus, but to have it lose power—this could mean wonderful things, love!”

“Does this mean… I could do magic? like a real wizard?” Credence gasped.

“This is clearly an example of your magic being used in a normal, healthy way--involuntarily, the way any untrained child would. The obscurus could be shrinking, or simply losing power... it's a very good sign,” Newt explained, his excitement clear, “and I think it’s time we tried.”

And the little ball of hot hope in his heart so painfully extinguished by Grindelwald that fateful afternoon began to burn again, with new ferocity.

Queenie must have sensed the commotion, because her head popped out of her room, blonde curls bouncing.

“Oh, goodie! Do we finally get to buy you a wand, darling?” She exclaimed.

“A wand!” Credence breathed, and turned to Newt with question in his eyes.

“How on Earth would we teach you magic without one?” Newt answered with a grin, and then turned to Queenie. “I’m not too familiar with American wandmakers, though. Might’ve sold some cores to a bloke named Wolfe once—“

“Wolfe? Really?” Queenie seemed impressed. “Well, the nearest one to here is a guy named Jonkers, he’s got a shop right down 34th, and his creations are a little more... mundane. We could go today.”

Credence took a shaky breath. So many wonderful doors were opening before him.

“Can we…?” He asked, looking up at Newt with wide eyes.

Newt met his gaze with incredible tenderness. “Of course.”

 

They decided to Floo to the shop, to avoid the long walk and the anxiety it evoked in Credence. They emerged on a well-polished mahogany floor, though Newt noticed that it was covered with a smattering of scorch marks and curse gouges. As he got up and brushed himself off, he was greeted by a young Scandinavian-looking fellow who was taller than him by about a foot. 

“Welcome to Jonker’s Wand Emporium,” he said, giving Newt a very firm handshake. “I’m Hans Jonker, my father is Johannes. If you would please take a seat, he will be with you shortly.”

Newt nodded and thanked him, as Credence and Queenie tumbled in behind him. He was struck by the contrast between this place and what he remembered from Ollivander’s when he’d gotten his wand. _Twelve inches, rowan, with an unusual bone-and-shell core, quite sturdy_ , the old man had told him. That old Diagon Alley shop was always dusty and smelled of mothballs, with a certain air of ancient mystery—quite a world apart from this shiny, enterprising American counterpart. 

They sat down on a red velvet couch near the door, and before long, a portly man in his sixties emerged from the depths of the Emporium and introduced himself. 

“My name is Johannes Jonkers,” he said in a thick German accent, “How might I help you today?”

“We’re looking for a wand Credence, here,” Queenie said.

“I see,” Jonkers replied, tilting his head slightly. Newt was relieved beyond belief when he didn’t comment further on what was indubitably a very strange situation. _They must get all sorts in New York_ , he mused. 

In the back, things started to look more familiar. There were ceiling-high stacks of wand boxes to each side, albeit stacked rather neatly. Jonkers turned with a thoughtful hum and summoned one from near the top. He took out the wand and handed it to Credence, who accepted it with startled reverence. He stared at it like he couldn’t quite believe it was real.

“Wave it around a bit,” Jonkers prompted him, “you will feel it if it’s the right one.”

Credence obeyed, and swept it back and forth. Nothing. His face fell.

“Don’t worry, now,” the old man said kindly, “not many find their wand on the first try.”

Credence flushed a little and nodded, handing the wand back to him.

They went through wand after wand, and nearly half an hour passed as Mr. Jonkers combed through his stores. Newt could tell that Credence was growing discouraged, and shrinking in on himself a bit. 

He leaned over. “You know, I heard it took Albus Dumbledore two hours solid to be matched to a wand in his day,” he said in an undertone.

“Who’s that?” Credence asked.

“Oh, one of my old professors. Incredibly powerful wizard, he is, and very kind.”

Credence seemed to take some comfort from this. 

“Ah—blackthorn and Pukwudgie gut,” Jonkers announced, passing Credence a rather thick, rough-hewn wand. It almost bucked in his hand, and Jonkers snatched it back. “ _Mein Gott,_ that’s a no then.” Credence just bowed his head.

“I think I might have spent half an hour in here when I was young,” Queenie piped up, looking nostalgic. “Silver lime and wampus hair, and worth every minute of the wait.” She twirled it lightly between her fingers, the mother-of-pearl handle flashing prettily.

Newt chuckled and pulled out his own, comparing the two. They were of relatively similar length, but Newt’s was considerably more careworn and rickety. Credence looked on with interest, and, of course, perennial longing.

“What is yours made of, Newt?” he asked.

“It’s rowan, with a bone and shell core. Ollivander was never sure quite what kind.”

“Ah yes, rowan…” said Jonkers, causing the three to look up at the reemerging figure. “Interesting. Anyway, I think you really ought to give this one a try, Credence.” He offered a long, tastefully simple wand which Credence took with some resignation. However, when he held it, a warm glow spread from his fingers, and his eyes widened as sparks flew from the tip. This was the one.

“Interesting…” Jonkers said again. 

Credence, looking up politely, asked, “What is it?”

“Elder wood… with a core of Re’em horn.” He answered with some concern in his tone. “It was one of my earliest works, an odd pairing, and I had begun to think hat I would never sell it. It’s a dangerous wand, that one.”

Worry crossed Credence’s face like a veil. “Dangerous?” He asked quietly.

Jonkers considered him for a moment. “Dangerous, yes, but only if you make it so.” Credence relaxed by a fraction. “Please, go on up to the front and Hans will take care of things. Good day.” And with that, the old German wandmaker disappeared into the back.

Newt paid seven galleons for the wand (assuring Credence that he was perfectly glad to do so) and they went back into the fireplace once again.

When they arrived in the apartment, Queenie disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Newt and Credence alone in the sitting room. 

“Are you going to teach me how to use it?” Credence asked, staring apprehensively at the wand in his hands. 

“I’ll try,” Newt answered honestly, “I’m not sure I’ll be the best teacher, but I’ll certainly try. Tina and Queenie will help too.”

“I think you’ll be a great teacher,” muttered Credence as he leaned into Newt’s side. 

Newt flushed. “Thank you.” 

“Could we start now, please?” Credence asked, glancing up at Newt through his lashes. And if Newt were able to resist that, he probably wouldn’t be human.

“I don’t see why not.”

He got up from the couch, and Credence followed. It was actually somewhat difficult to decide what to show him first, since Newt had forgotten most of what he learned in his early years at Hogwarts, but he seemed to remember Professor Spangle starting their lessons with  a levitation charm.

“Alright…” Newt said as he shuffled around to correct Credence’s posture. “Go on and stand up straight, plant your feet… good… now, the incantation is _wingardium leviosa_ , try that.”

“ _Wingardium Leviosa,_ ” Credence repeated, with a certain reverence. 

“Let’s see, the wand movement is quite specific. It’s a swish—and flick.” He demonstrated, and Credence followed his movements carefully.

“Here—“ he said, summoning a feather. “Focus on the feather, and imagine what you want to happen.” 

Credence readied his wand, and stared at the feather like it was his destiny. “ _Wingardium leviosa!”_ He said, performing a rather exaggerated movement. Nothing happened.

“It’s alright, try it again,” Newt urged.

So he did. And again. The feather lilted slightly, like there was a breeze.

“Good, good! It moved. Keep going—focus, now—“

Newt rested a bracing hand on Credence’s forearm, which was shaking a bit. “Focus,” he breathed.

“ _Wingardium Leviosa.”_ Nothing.

_“Wingardium Leviosa!”_ And as he completed the movement, the feather jerked into the air about two feet, fluttering downwards.

“You did it!” Newt cried, throwing his arms around Credence and pulling him close for a kiss on the cheek. He could feel the heat of a blush creeping up the boy’s neck. 

“Credence, honey!” Queenie exclaimed, hurrying into the living room “I’m so proud.”

“You’re incredible, you know that,” Newt said honestly. 

“It’s a spell for kids, isn’t it?” Credence mumbled modestly.

“Yeah, kids who’ve been messing around with their magic for years and grew up around it.” Queenie corrected. “This is pretty amazing, dearie.”

Credence just reddened further and glanced at his hands. 

Later, they were doing their evening rounds in the suitcase, and Newt was feeding the grindylow, who was being particularly impish.

“Credence, could you please hand me the kelp on the rock—“

But instead of passing it by hand, Credence levitated it, and it smacked the grindylow square in the face.

“Sorry!” he called from behind Newt, who was laughing. The grindylow spluttered and sulked away, hiding among the reeds.

“I’m leaving it here on the rock, George, see,” Newt said sternly to the creature. “Do remember to eat, you’ve been losing weight recently.”

The grindylow just clicked its bony fingers and continued to grumpily give Newt its back.

“Alright,” he sighed, and left George be.

“I’m sorry, did I—“

“You’re alright, love, he’s just gloomy as usual,” Newt reassured Credence. “Now, come on, let’s go to bed.” He kissed his lover on the forehead, and they went upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how'd you like it? This is most likely going to be a series of vignettes (yeah, yeah, i know, crazy concept for me) each centered around a different class or aspect of magical education. So yeah. Please leave kudos and comments if you're so inclined, that would be lovely.
> 
> Oh, yeah! wand meanings! i did way too much research so have this:  
> Silver lime is associated with Seers and Legilimens and was quite popular in the 19th century  
> Rowan is associated with protective qualities, clear-headedness, and purity of heart. it also, as I mentioned, has a tendency to pair up with yew wands.  
> Yew is very unusual, and associated with power, death, and rebirth. The only two characters we canonically know to posses yew wands are Voldemort... and Ginny Weasley  
> :)


	2. Sorting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A discussion of school houses and what they do and don't mean

There was a small golden brooch affixed to Tina’s heavy coat, and Credence noticed it out of the corner of his eye one day as he passed the coatrack. It gleamed intriguingly, and as he drew closer to it, he saw that it was rectangular in shape, and had a stylized inscription of some sort of bird. It seemed very out of place in Tina’s wardrobe, since she never wore jewelry, and he made up his mind to ask her about it the next time he saw her.

This proved to be quite a bit farther away than he had anticipated, since she happened to be assigned to a long and secretive mission, and in the week before she came back, he very nearly forgot. Thankfully, though, the emblem caught his eye again as she bustled in the door just in time for dinner.

He let her eat, and once their pace had slowed a bit, he took the opportunity. “Tina, if you don't mind me asking… you always wear that brooch, the gold one. What is it?”

She seemed a little surprised, and Credence briefly wondered if he’d stumbled accidentally on some dreadful secret, but then she just smiled slightly and shook her head. “It’s a thunderbird. It was my house at Ilvermorny.”

“Your… house?” Credence asked slowly. All three of his dinner companions stared at him blankly.

“Oh!” Queenie exclaimed. “Of course, sweetie, you wouldn’t know.”

“I’m sorry, I—“

“No, it’s nothing, really,” Tina jumped in. “You see, there’s a wizarding school here in the States called Ilvermorny, it’s where magical kids go to learn how to use their powers.”

“So an American Hogwarts?” Credence asked, trying to connect the dots. Newt had mentioned his old school once or twice, but it had never occurred to him that there would be more than the one.

“More or less… Newt, you didn’t tell him about Ilvermorny?” Queenie said across the table, frowning.

Newt just sort of shrugged, swallowing a large mouthful of borscht. “Never came up, I guess.”

Queenie humphed with certain reproach, shaking her head.  “Well, Tina and I can certainly tell you all about Ilvermorny, dear, if you’d like.”

Credence realized that she’d been reading his thoughts. Try as he might, it was proving very difficult to get used to that.

“Gosh, where to begin?” Tina sighed. “T he pin is my house emblem. I chose Thunderbird—they say it’s the house that focuses on a person’s soul, you know, their spirit for adventure—“

“A load of hogwash, and you know it!” Queenie cried. “It’s a house full of starry-eyed dreamers on their high horses with their heads in the sand! And you’re the worst of them, sister dear.”

“Well, at least my mascot is a powerful, regal bird and not some spiky grump who wanders around the grounds complaining. Do you realize that William once told me my face looked like melted wax? I was _twelve_!” Tina fired back.

Newt raised his hand timidly. “Mine was a badger, so I think I can safely say I got the worst of the lot by that standard.”

Credence just sat there, back pressed into his chair, and watched the exchange like he was trying to keep up with a particularly vicious game of tennis. Their voices were incredibly loud, all of the sudden, and he wanted nothing more than just to sink into the ground beneath him and into a quiet place far away…

“Oh, dear—Credence? Credence, honey?” A foggy voice called out. “Sorry… carried away…”

It was the smell of warm earth and lemongrass that brought him back in the end, a calloused but gentle hand on his cheek.

“Sorry…” he muttered, as the dining room came back into focus. “Did I…” he trailed off, hoping that he didn’t need to finish his thought.

“No,” Newt assured him, blessedly clairvoyant in that instant. “Your eyes just glazed over a bit.”

Queenie fussed over him a bit before retreating to her seat. “I’m sorry we got so loud. The houses have their differences, but it’s a friendly rivalry, I promise.”

Tina nodded. “I never finished my explanation,” she said, throwing her sister a dirty look, “but I’ll tell you the story of the Ilvermorny houses, if you still want.”

Credence inclined his chin. He wondered if, in a different world, he would have ended up in this Ilvermorny place when he was young.

Tina was not a particularly good storyteller, and she jumped around a lot, but the important bits—Isolt, her children, the evil witch, and the four houses—stuck out regardless. 

“When I was a first year, I was offered Wampus and Thunderbird, but I was scared of all the big, burly boys in Wampus so I picked the latter. Much as my _sister—_ “ she elbowed Queenie pointedly “—would say otherwise, I’m quite proud of it, thank you very much. There’s nothing wrong with being an adventurous spirit.”

Queenie just laughed. “See, when it was my turn, I was offered places in Thunderbird and Pukwudgie—and I picked Pukwudgie, I’ll have you know.”

The friendly animosity between the two seemed both familiar and foreign to Credence. It was like the competition that arose between him and Chastity back before, over who would hand out the most leaflets or fix the best soup, silly things like that. The obvious difference was that rather than having the threat of punishment and betrayal hanging over them, Tina and Queenie seemed like allies, co-conspirators. Another glimpse of the existence that he had never been afforded.

“What house would I have been in?” He wondered aloud.

“It’s impossible to tell, really,” Queenie explained. “You never know until you perform the ceremony… I suppose it does have a bit to do with personality, though.”

“Hufflepuffs are characterized by friendship and loyalty,” Newt offered. “Hogwarts has three other houses as well—Ravenclaws are smart, Slytherins are cunning, and Gryffindors are brave.”

“I would want to be a Hufflepuff, I think,” Credence concluded. He wasn’t particularly smart, and he certainly didn’t see himself as cunning. Brave was out of the ballpark completely.

Newt was grinning. “That’s refreshing to hear. We Hufflepuffs get laughed at a lot, you know.”

“You are?” Credence demanded, surprised. 

“People think we’re weak, silly. Our common room is in the basement, right by the kitchens.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Credence decided after a short consideration. 

Newt’s smile only widened. “I’d have to agree.”

They moved out of the kitchen at this point, the borscht having long since gone cold. Credence’s head was full of intoxicating images: the great main hall at Ilvermorny, watched over by the four great house statues, shining and regal; the greenhouses at Hogwarts with row upon row of strange and wonderful plants. It slowly sank in that these wondrous experiences would never become his reality, that this wizarding childhood had been denied to him.

When Newt found him, he was in the mooncalf enclosure, stewing with Amelia’s head on his lap.

He took one look at Credence’s face and sighed, sinking down to the ground beside him. 

“None of that matters, you know. The bloody houses.” 

Credence didn’t respond.

Newt hummed and wrapped an arm around his waist. “You’d have been bored there, love. You’re going to fly through the lessons faster than anything, I know it.”

Credence shook his head automatically in response, but his free hand curled itself around his new elder wand, and it glowed warmly under his touch as always. He smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this, because I'm not too satisfied with the way it turned out and I might redo it later. It seemed like something that needed to be addressed, though, so there it is. Again, I took the liberty of assigning the Goldsteins to Ilvermorny houses. No idea if it's in any way canon. At any rate, more Credence-learning-magic fluff coming up


	3. Potions

The next morning, Newt beckoned him into the shed in the case. 

“I want to teach you potions,” he called up the ladder. “Quite honestly, I should have done this much earlier, but now’s as good a time as any.You work with the creatures and you ought to know how to brew antidotes and healing salves.”

Credence nodded as he stepped onto the floor of the case.

“So first, we need our fire—ah, you should learn this too, actually. Spell for lighting a fire. The incantation is _Incendio,_ you just sort of poing _—_ go on, then,”

Credence took his wand out. “What am I lighting?” he asked.

Newt smiled. “Nothing at all, really. It’ll sustain itself. Right under that metal hook, though, if you would.”

Credence nodded, and took a deep breath. He wasn’t quite used to the sensation the magic gave him when he used it; it felt a bit too much like the Obscurus, if he were to be honest. It was like they used the same channels in his body, the same veins or what have you.

Nevertheless, after a few unsuccessful tries, a rather erratic little fire sprang to life atop Newt’s desk. It was miraculous to Credence that the surface didn’t seem to be affected by the heat, but he supposed that there must be some sort of spell to make wood fireproof.

“Alright—“ Newt heaved a wrought-iron caldron onto the hook, and it swung gently as he leaned down to inspect Credence’s fire. “Excellent work, it doesn’t appear to be puttering out at all. Now, it might take some energy to sustain it—you won’t notice at first—but if you get woozy just let me know, I’ll take it over.”

Credence hummed in agreement, flushed slightly over the compliment. Newt seemed to be in his element, rummaging around in his stores and pulling out pouches of this and that, talking all the while. It was adorable.

Newt spread out his various ingredients over the tabletop and beckoned Credence over to have a closer look. “These are all very common for a healing type of potion, so if all else fails, just go back to these… this is essence of murtlap, which heals most cuts and abrasions”

Credence carefully took the small bottle and glimpsed the liquid inside, which seemed to be holding a variety of tentacles.

“essence of dittany—this does similar work, usually scars over more, though—ah, these are asphodel root and wormwood, be very careful with those two, they can induce sleep, but if you use too much the effect is irreversible—“

Credence did his best to retain all of the information: mandrake root, good for petrification; bezoar, very rare and a last-ditch resort for poisoning; ashwinder eggs (unfertilized, Newt assured him), key ingredient in burn salves; fluxweed, but only when harvested on the full moon…

“Newt,” he interjected hesitantly when the man had paused for a breath, “should I write this all down?”

Newt blinked. “Oh! Smart of you, but you don’t have too—can’t believe I didn’t think of this, sorry, hang on,”

He turned around and summoned a book from the bottom shelf, handing it to Credence. The cover read _Magical Drafts and Potions_. He opened it to the table of contents, and found that there was an entire sections on “Draughts of Healing.”

“Thank you,” he said politely, as he flipped to the appropriate page.

“At any rate, we should get started. I’m almost out of my antidote to the Nundu’s poison, so we might as well make that.”

With Newt’s zealous instructions guiding him, Credence stumbled his way through the process and managed to produce a goopy, greenish liquid that smelled vaguely of bleach. Newt leaned over and sniffed the concoction.

“Well done, I think that will work. The asphodel ought to have been chopped a little more finely, I think, to release the juices better, but it’s still quite potent.” Newt told him with a smile, slipping a hand around Credence’s waist. Credence promptly sank down onto the bench, suddenly feeling his own exhaustion. The fire under the cauldron fizzled out.

“Sorry—I just didn’t expect it to be so much work,” Credence said by way of explanation, leaning into his partner’s side.

Newt just chuckled. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, it really is tiring work.” 

They stayed there for a moment, enjoying each other’s warmth, and then Newt shifted and summoned a flask with a flick of his wand, transferring the antidote into it and storing it away in the cupboard.

“What do you say to some lunch?” He murmured. Credence gave him a lazy smile and nodded. He was fairly hungry. “I think Jacob made pumpkin bread.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title says it all, amiright. yes that was short. more coming. maybe tonight.


	4. Charms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queenie pitches in

Jacob had made pumpkin bread. He was bustling about in the kitchen, a loaf already cooling on the counter. It smelled amazing.

“Nice to see ya, boys,” he greeted them.

“Afternoon, Mr. Kowalksi,” Credence replied.

“I keep telling you, call me Jacob, kid.” the man said amiably.

“Right, sorry.” 

“Oh, is the bread done already? Smells like a dream.” Queenie’s head popped around the corner. “Boys! Excellent timing.”

“Don’t get too excited, it’s a new recipe.” Jacob waved her off modestly.

They settled down around the table, and Tina passed out pretty little china plates with a slice of bread on each. It seemed more like cake than bread, not that Credence was complaining. It was, as usual, absolutely delicious--warm and rich, with little melty pieces of chocolate. He was torn between devouring it and savoring every little bite.

“This is brilliant, Jacob,” Newt praised the baker through a full mouth. 

“Manners, darling,” Queenie reprimanded him absently, making him splutter. Credence stifled a huff of laughter in the back of his hand.

Jacob made comfortable small talk, as affable as ever. Once they had finished the loaf—and it didn’t take long—Queenie magicked all the plates into the sink and Credence started to wash them while she and Jacob cleaned up the rest of the baking supplies. This had become something of a habit for them, and Credence quite enjoyed it. At first, Newt had seemed a little worried about his propensity for household work, but Credence had explained to him one evening that it relaxed him, to work with his hands like that. Newt seemed to understand that.

“Oh, rats,” Queenie humphed, both of her hands inside the cooling oven cleaning something. She looked over her shoulder. “Credence, dearie, could you possibly summon the scrub brush from the bathroom?”

_Summon?_ “I—I’m sorry, I don’t—“

“Oh! Merlin, sorry sweetie. Of course. Hang on.” Queenie quickly finished whatever she’d been doing in the oven and brushed her hands on a towel. With a flick of her wand, the scrub brush zoomed past Credence’s nose and into her hand.

“How is it you do that?” Credence asked. It was something he’d seen most of the wizards he knew use, but he’d never heard any of them use an incantation. He took out his wand.

“It’s right easy, darling, I’ll show you.” Queenie waltzed over and raised his wand arm slightly. “The incantation is _Accio,_ and you just add the name of whatever you’re summoning. Try for the napkin on the table.”

“ _Accio_ napkin.” Credence said, to no avail.

“Ah, alright—you have to visualize it, hon, concentrate a little more,” 

“ _Accio_ napkin,” Credence intoned, imagining the napkin flying towards him.

This time, it did just that—with so much force that they both reflexively dodged it as it flew over their heads. Credence popped back up, shocked, and Queenie was giggling.

“That was ducky, love, you just might want to loosen up a little next time.” Her tone was conspiratorial and sweet, and Credence found himself laughing. 

Jacob came back into the room to find the two of them clutching their sides, snorting unattractively. “What’d I miss?” He said blankly, only inviting a fresh round of giggles.

Later, Credence recounted the story to Newt as they lay in bed together after a long day spent tending to the still-ailing Erumpent calf (Newt thought he’d pull through, but the poor thing had killer projectile vomit). He found a smile pulling his lips up as he remembered the napkin shooting through the air like a projectile. When he looked at Newt again, his lips were quirked too, and there was a sparkle in his eye. The words on Credence’s tongue dissolved.

They kissed, and Newt pulled him impossibly close, and everything else in the world melted away into the smell of fresh earth and lemongrass and _Newt_. 

“I’m so glad,” he breathed in Credence’s ear when they broke apart for a moment. “So proud of you,”

And Credence, wrapped up in so much warmth and love, just kissed him again. It seemed like a miracle that he got to _have this_ , to have Newt and a soft bed and good friends and the creatures. He knew that Ma would have hated every single aspect of this new life he had found, told him how every little bit was a vicious sin against God—

“Credence?” Newt asked tentatively.

“I’m here,” he answered, quickly banishing the memories. It didn’t matter now, after all.

“You went away for a second,” Newt murmured, shuffling underneath the covers and guiding the covers over them.

“I’m here,” Credence repeated, curling into Newt’s welcoming arms. He was there, thank God.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoo i've finally ridden out the writer's block. I think. Strangely, having a shitton of people staying in my house and trying to hide from them is motivational? either way hope that was good. Is Jacob's character underdeveloped? Probably. Sorry. Great guy, i guess i just didn't find him that interesting (is it because I have a crush on Queenie? we'll never know)


	5. Defense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graves does his bit

“Are you seeing Mr. Graves?” Credence asked Tina one evening in the parlor, apropos of nothing. He winced a little, wondering if he was being impudent. Their relationship had seemed clear to him when he’d visited the apartment, but what did he know?

Tina seemed startled, but not offended. “Yes,” she said simply, “I suppose I am.”

“I’m sorry, that was direct—“ he stammered.

“Not at all,” Tina assured him, blinking slowly. Credence relaxed by an imperceptible fraction. “Why do you ask?”

Credence considered his response carefully. “I—is he doing alright?”

“About as well as one would expect, I guess,” Tina said, after a pause. “He’s going back to work next week.”

“I was just wondering—do you think he’d like it if I visited him?”

The surprised expression returned to Tina’s face, her lips quirked upwards, almost hopefully. “I think he would. Are you sure about it, though? For you?”

Credence nodded. “I think it helps me... knowing the real him.”

“I think it helped him too, seeing you last time.” Tina muses, her fingers tapping on the cover of the book she’d been reading. The title read _The Tragedy of Thornton Harkaway_ in flowery script, underscored by a drawing of a dog with a forked tail.

“How about this,” Tina started, pulling Credence away from his thoughts. “I was going to visit him on my off day Friday, why don’t you come with?”

“I’d love to, thank you,” Credence said politely.

Friday arrived without fanfare, and Credence had nearly forgotten what was happening when Tina came to take him that afternoon.

“I told him I’d be there around two,” she said brusquely as she put on her coat.

“Right,” Credence murmured, blinking. He rose too and started to wind a scarf around his neck. It was Newt’s Hufflepuff one, which they had been sharing of late. It was gray and muddy outside, and when they were about two blocks down, Tina gave Credence a sidelong glance.

“C’mon,” she muttered, and tugged him into the mouth of an alleyway. Startled, Credence stumbled after her. “W-what—“

“Let’s just apparate,” she hissed.

“Oh. Wait, what?” 

“Grab on tight, and don’t hold your breath.” 

Credence did as she asked, and was immediately pressed into folds of constricting darkness. He remembered having done this once before, though it was still uncomfortable. 

They arrived rather suddenly on the icy sidewalk outside Graves’ apartment, and Credence almost slipped and fell. Tina steadied him with one hand, and opened the door with the other. They made their way up the stairs in compatible silence. Credence was slightly apprehensive—the man’s face still burned in his dreams at night, sometimes—but he told himself firmly that this was another man entirely. _I’m sorry for what he did with my face,_ Graves’ voice echoed in his head. He sensed that of everyone in his new life, all of these people who were so kind to him despite everything, Graves—no, Percival, he remembered—was the only one who understood what Grindelwald had done. There was a certain kinship there.

The man answered his door promptly, looking a little broader and healthier than he had before. He gave Tina a smile, and their gazes lingered on each other for a little while, but then he hastily stepped aside and let them in.

“Nice to see you again, Credence,” he said kindly. “Tea?” 

“That would be nice,” Tina said, and Credence nodded in agreement.

“So what have you been up to, Credence?” the man asked as his wand filled three teacups with boiling water.

“I, uh,” Credence swallowed. “Nothing much, really. Newt’s been teaching me magic.”

He smiled at that. “Good to hear. They got you a wand?”

Credence nodded, a hit of pride creeping into his smile. “Elder wood and Re’em horn.”

Percival quirked his eyebrow. “An unusual wand,” he mused.

“So I’ve been told.”

“You’re going back to the office on Monday, right?” Tina jumped in, after a brief silence.

“Yes…” Percival sighed. “I can’t say I’ve missed it, but it’ll drive me crazy just sitting around here, so I’ll be glad to be back, I guess.”

“We’ve missed you.” Tina told him with a certain finality, covering his hand with her own over the coffee table. A smile glanced across his lips.

They chatted for a while longer, until the tea was gone and the sunlight had diminished.

“Damn these short winter days,” Percival muttered as he tapped a lamp with his wand, igniting it, and closed the blinds with a flick of his fingers.

“How did you do that?” Credence asked, his interest piqued. As far as he knew, he'd never seen a witch or wizard casting spells without their wand. H

“Wandless magic,” Percival explained. “It takes years, usually, and familiarity with the spells. I’ve always had a penchant for it, though.”

“Show-off,” Tina said with a roll of her eyes. “you’ll excuse me, boys, I need to use the powder room.”

“ _Powder_ room,” Percival snorted once she’d closed the bathroom door. “I’ve never heard her say anything so civilized. You must be a good influence.”

Credence huffed a laugh. Percival was staring at him almost scrutinizingly, his eyebrows all scrunched together. Credence shifted uncomfortably under the intense gaze.

“She wanted me to show you something.” He said abruptly, rising and taking out his wand. “It’s a spell.”

“Oh—alright—“ Credence stammered. "I mean, please. Go ahead."

“It’s called a Patronus charm,” Percival said. “don’t be worried if it doesn’t work at first, It’s a hard spell. If you do it correctly, though, it’ll produce a glowing silver figure that will protect you from dark forces.”

This certainly sounded appealing.

“Before you use the incantation, you need to think of a happy memory. The happiest memory you can come up with.”

Credence gave him a blank look. Nothing came to mind in particular right off the bat. Percival just chuckled humorlessly. “I know, just try your best.”

Credence thought of the party with Queenie’s friends, and the way he’d felt dancing for the first time. Free of all his worries.

“Alright,” he said quietly.

“Now, channel the energy, and— _Expecto patronum!_ ” He roared, startling Credence, and a silvery form emerged from his wand—a leopard. Something about its presence filled Credence with a great sense of calm. It curled around Percival’s legs for a moment, and then dissolved into nothing.

Graves breathed a sigh—of relief? “Good to know I can still do that,” he admitted.

“Why wouldn’t you be able to?” Credence asked. He knew that Percival was a very powerful wizard, and the charm didn’t seem like it had taken much out of him.

Percival’s expression darkened. “It’s a very light spell and, well, after… contact with dark magic can make it more difficult. Not to mention trauma.” His voice had grown strangely quiet.

“Oh.” Credence said simply, letting the quiet hang for a little bit. “Should I—“

“Yes,” Percival answered after a bit. “Go on, give it a shot. Try and channel the memory—the happy one.”

“Right.” Credence took a big breath _._ “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ” 

Nothing.

It took him about four tries before his wand started emitting a silvery sort of mist.

“That’s good progress,” Graves told him. 

Tina, who was back from the _powder room_ , nodded approvingly. “You know, if you feel like there’s not a lot of power behind it, you should try for a different memory, a happier one. That might be the problem.”

Credence shook his head slightly and bit his lip. There was not a large pool to choose from—more or less everything from before he’d met Newt was off-limits. _Newt_ … he thought of the first time they’d met in the rain, when he’d stretched out a hand and offered salvation. The first time they’d kissed, in the shed under moonlight. Precious cozy evenings and loving embraces. Working with the creatures. The brush of his calloused fingers on Credence’s cheeks.

A warm, tingling sensation spread through him. “ _Expecto Patronum!”_

The silver mist flowed out of his wand at an alarming rate, coalescing into a vague form that grew sharper by the instant. He thought he heard Percival gasp.

It was an owl, a great big barn owl, and it swooped once across the room before vanishing.

“That was incredible,” Percival said gruffly. “I’ve never seen anyone form a corporeal Patronus the quickly.”

“He could Summon on his second try, remember?” Tina reminded him. Credence wondered if all this really was unusual—it just seemed to _happen_ for him. Like it had always been there all along. 

When they returned to the Goldstein’s apartment, Newt’s amazed expression upon hearing the news was all Credence needed to repeat the feat for him and Queenie. The barn owl perched serenely on the couch, blinking slowly at Credence. It stayed longer, this time. 

“ _Expecto Patronum_ ,” he heard Newt mutter under his breath. A doleful basset hound plodded up to the owl, touching its nose to the bird’s beak. The owl fluffed its feathers comfortably, and allowed the hound to curl around it. They faded away together a few seconds later. 

Credence leaned into Newt’s shoulders, feeling very warm and fuzzy inside.

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew alright. tell me what you think of the patronuses (did i make a new pottermore account and take the test on Credence's behalf to find his? maybe. was it an osprey and I just decided to change it? who knows)


	6. Apparating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New places

“Credence?” Newt murmured in the morning as they lay in bed together, “I was thinking of taking you to the woods today, a little bit outside of the city.”

Credence flushed. “I’ve never left the city.”

Newt seemed astonished. “Well, is that a yes, then?” He asked eventually. 

Credence nodded. He imagined it would be like the forest section of Newt’s suitcase, only bigger. 

“Why today?” he asked. 

“You see… we rather thought it was time for you to try Apparating,” Newt explained, fiddling with his hands.

“Apparating?”

“Yes, it’s where you can disappear from one place and reappear instantly in the next—it’s how I got you here the first day on the street.”

“Oh.” Credence was generally eager to learn new magic, but he was fairly sure that this was more daunting than the stuff he'd been doing so far. “Is it hard?”

“Uh, yes. Sort of. Tina and I agree that you’re ready, though.” 

Credence glanced at him. His face was full of conviction, which was comforting, as Credence knew that the man couldn’t lie to save his life.

“Alright then,” he agreed. 

Newt considered him for a moment, head at a tilt. “It would make sense for us to Apparate there… but it so happens that Percival has offered to lend me a automobile.”

“A car? Really? I—I’ve never been in one,” Credence admitted, a little embarrassed. It went without saying that Mary Lou and her creed had walked everywhere—good for strength and character.

“I think you’ll like it,” Newt said, taking Credence’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “They make me claustrophobic after a little while, personally, but that’s an unusual reaction.”

Credence chuckled slightly. Of course Newt would hate being shut up in such a small space.

“If that’s all right, then—?”

Credence nodded. “It’s all right.”

They put on their overcoats in companionable silence and locked the apartment door behind them—both of the girls were out somewhere. 

A rather large and affluent-looking car was waiting for them outside.

“Can you drive?” Credence asked hesitantly, peering through the darkened windshield apprehensively

“Ah, yes, though it’s been a while. I don’t think I’ll need to, though,” Newt said, and he gestured to the driver’s seat, which Credence had thought was empty. He looked a little closer, and realized that there was in fact a rather small person sitting behind the wheel, with a very wrinkled face and big, pointed ears.

“It’s a goblin!” Newt exclaimed. “Merlin, I didn’t think there were any left in America.” He went around to the driver’s side window and tapped on it politely. It rolled down silently.

“Excuse me, sir, I’m Mr. Scamander, and this is Mr. Barebone. We were hoping to make it to Harriman State Park.”

“Humph,” Credence heard the driver—goblin?—mutter. “We should get goin’ then. Get in.”

“Sure thing,” Newt chirped, and he tugged Credence around to the back door with him. They piled into the car on top of each other, and Credence stared in wonderment at the fine leather seats and the multitude of switches and buttons he could see in front of the driver.

He gasped as the car began to move. It was an odd feeling, having the earth peel away before him like that without moving his feet. 

Newt was grinning, and it was infectious. The sun was even out, proof that spring wasn’t so far away. It was simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating to be going so fast—Credence swore that the world blurred around them as they travelled.

The goblin drove in silence, resisting Newt’s many eager attempts at conversation. Credence, for his part, was content to stare out the window as the city buildings slowly faded into countryside. It seemed like something out of a storybook to him, with big trees and tall grass stretching endlessly across hills and valley. A flock of geese passed overhead.

“We’re here, Mr. Scamander,” the goblin grunted as they pulled into a dusty lot off the side of the highway. “When do I pick you up?”

“Five thirty would be wonderful,” Newt requested as he let them out of the car.

“Five thirty, then,” the goblin replied, revving the engine. He drove off in a cloud of dust, and just like that, they seemed alone in the wilderness. Everything from the smell of the breeze to the blue of sky seemed like a painting, more vibrant than real life.

Newt, on the other hand, was in his element. He was already trekking off towards a footpath that Credence hadn’t spotted, the tall grass shifting around his legs.

“Come on, love!” He called. “There’s a nice clearing a mile or two up, it should be good for our purposes.”

Credence jogged to catch up with him. His neck was getting a little sore from tilting up so much to stare at the sky and the soft clouds that were blowing by overhead. 

“You’ve been here before?” he asked, once he’d caught up.

“Yes, the last time I visited the US,” Newt replied thoughtfully. “I was a teenager, and my family was visiting Theseus on his year abroad at Auror training.”

“Theseus… your brother?” Credence vaguely remembered the name.

“That’s the one. Insufferable prick, he is,” Newt shook his head and smiled. “Anyway, we had a family picnic out here on his day off. I met some displaced leprechauns.”

“Leprechauns?” Credence exclaimed. “You’ve never mentioned leprechauns.”

Newt shrugged. “They’re independent, and quite tricky. They don’t particularly like humans… especially not British ones.” His smile flickered for a moment.

“Why not?” Credence probed gently.

“Well… British muggles have never been kind to the Irish, historically speaking. There aren’t so many of them around anymore.”

“Oh.”

They hiked in companionable silence, broken only occasionally by Newt pointing out some bird or bug that they passed. For a maizoologist, he was remarkably familiar with non-magical wildlife. When Credence asked about this, Newt just shrugged and said, “I love them all the same, really, it’s just that the magical ones are much more misundrestood.”

Within a half hour or so, they reached a small clearing by the side of the trail. Newt forged through the tall grass cheerfully, and Credence followed in his wake.

“Brilliant!” Newt said, stopping somewhere near the middle. “A few muggle repelling charms and we should be good to go.”

As he walked around casting wards, he started to explain things to Credence. “ _Cave Inimicum—_ alright, apparition. It’s fairly simple in practice, really, but it’s the thought process— _Protego Maxima—_ that can get you. Essentially, you just need to think very hard about getting where you want to go. You have to visualize yourself—S _alvio Hexia—_ in whatever location you’re a pparating to, and then most wizards generally tend to do some sort of turning motion as they disappear. Muscle memory and all that. Let’s see… _Muffliato._ That should do.”

Credence let the information sink in. “So, is there an incantation?” 

Newt shook his head. “No, it’s nonverbal magic. That’s why they usually make students wait until their fifth or sixth year of study to learn it—that’s when you start to learn nonverbal spells. I think you’re ready, though.”

“Erm—do I—“

Newt pointed to a stump across the clearing. “Sure. Give it a shot. Aim for the stump.”

Credence closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure exactly how to go about this—Newt hadn’t been particularly specific—so he just closed his fingers around his wand and felt the magic as it ran through him. He could see the stump quite clearly in his mind’s eye, and he imagined himself standing on top of it, looking back across the grass at Newt. Keeping that image planted firmly in his mind’s eye, he turned on his heel and clutched his wand tightly.

The clutching darkness that he remembered from his previous experiences enveloped him, but the initial euphoria faded as he stumbled back into reality on the stump, a horrible pain radiating from his right hand. As he looked down, to his horror, he realized that three of his fingers were missing. What had he done wrong?

Newt was by his side in an instant, cursing quietly. “I’m so sorry, Credence, I can’t believe I forgot to mention—“

He reached over to the injured hand, and Credence felt his limb jerk away automatically. Newt pulled away in turn like he’d been burned.

“Credence? Hey, Credence? Look at me?” he asked quietly, waiting until their gazes met. “I’m not angry, I just need to see your hand. I can mend your fingers.”

Credence slowly extended his hand, looking away. Newt must have done some spell to regrow them, because after a few seconds of uncomfortable stretching, he looked back to find them good as new.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you about Splinching. Slipped my mind, I guess. It’s a common thing for beginners especially, to lose a few body parts. You’re lucky it was only the fingers. I knew a boy who splinched off both of his legs once.” He noticed Credence’s horrified expression. “Ah, he was fine—they found them both and reattached them. Not a pleasant business.”

Credence was’t really up for doing more, still shaky from stress and blood loss, so they sat for a while on that stump together, back to back, hands clasped (well, just the right ones. Credence’s left was still tender).

“I’m sorry I’m no good at this.” Credence muttered, eventually.

Newt shook his head and squeezed Credence’s hand. “You’re as wonderful as ever, love. Don’t sell yourself short.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was this ooc? it's been a while ! The irony is that actual school is keeping me from writing this

**Author's Note:**

> So, how'd you like it? This is most likely going to be a series of vignettes (yeah, yeah, i know, crazy concept for me) each centered around a different class or aspect of magical education. So yeah. Please leave kudos and comments if you're so inclined, that would be lovely. 
> 
> Oh, yeah! wand meanings! i did way too much research so have this:  
> Silver lime is associated with Seers and Legilimens and was quite popular in the 19th century  
> Rowan is associated with protective qualities, clear-headedness, and purity of heart. it also, as I mentioned, has a tendency to pair up with yew wands.  
> Yew is very unusual, and associated with power, death, and rebirth. The only two characters we canonically know to posses yew wands are Voldemort... and Ginny Weasley  
> :)


End file.
